Chapter 3 - THE APARTMENT SHE NEVER REACHEDAdrian wanted Naomi moved back to the Vale estate.
Naomi refused so decisively that two nurses down the hallway looked toward the room.
“I am not going back there.”
“It has security.”
“It also has someone capable of putting medication into my body.”
“We don’t know it happened there.”
“My vitamins are there.”
“I’ll have them tested.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“I understand the point.”
“No, you understand danger. You do not understand why I won’t spend another night in a house where every door is guarded by somebody whose last name I don’t know.”
Adrian rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Where do you want to go?”
“My apartment.”
“No.”
She gave him a look.
He corrected himself.
“I strongly object to the apartment.”
“Better.”
“It has street access.”
“It has locks.”
“Locks impress very few people in my profession.”
Naomi stared.
“You realize normal husbands don’t describe crime as their profession.”
“I’ve never insulted you by pretending I’m normal.”
That, at least, was true.
Ultimately they compromised.
Adrian would drive Naomi to her apartment himself.
Two guards would inspect it.
They would leave if she demanded it.
Naomi would not return to the estate until the source of the drug was identified.
At 1:14 p.m., they left Lakeshore Medical Center.
At 1:36, Adrian’s SUV stopped one block from Naomi’s new building.
A police cruiser blocked the street.
Glass covered the sidewalk.
Naomi leaned forward.
“What happened?”
Adrian’s security chief, Lucas Shaw, answered from the front seat.
“Stay inside.”
Naomi recognized the tone.
“Lucas.”
He turned.
The forty-year-old former Army investigator had protected Adrian for six years.
He rarely looked unsettled.
He looked unsettled now.
“Your apartment was entered.”
Naomi went cold.
“What?”
“Building manager called police twenty minutes ago.”
“Was anything taken?”
“We don’t know.”
Adrian opened his door.
“Stay here.”
Naomi grabbed his sleeve.
“No.”
He looked down.
“If someone is still inside—”
“Then you shouldn’t go either.”
Lucas almost smiled.
Adrian did not.
“You think I’m leaving this to patrol officers?”
“I think you have a security chief.”
Lucas raised one eyebrow.
Adrian glared at him.
“Don’t enjoy this.”
“I’m not.”
He definitely was.
Adrian remained with Naomi while Lucas entered with police.
Ten minutes became twenty.
Naomi’s stomach tightened.
Finally Lucas returned.
“Clear.”
“What did they take?” Naomi asked.
“Nothing obvious.”
Her confusion deepened.
“What did they do?”
Lucas looked toward Adrian.
Naomi noticed.
“Do not have one of your silent male conversations in front of me.”
Lucas sighed.
“Bedroom was searched.”
“Everything?”
“Mostly the suitcase you had delivered yesterday.”
Naomi’s pulse changed.
The suitcase contained clothes, toiletries, documents.
And a box.
“What about the bathroom?”
“Disturbed.”
“My medicine?”
Lucas hesitated.
“Gone.”
Adrian’s face became stone.
Naomi whispered, “My prenatal vitamins?”
“Yes.”
She had purchased them only three weeks ago.
Before she knew she was pregnant.
Her gynecologist had suggested she start again because Naomi and Adrian had once been trying.
She never stopped taking them.
“Someone took only the vitamins?”
“We’re still inventorying.”
Naomi leaned back.
Who would care about vitamins?
Unless they contained something.
Adrian asked, “How many people knew about this apartment?”
Naomi thought.
“My attorney.”
“Who else?”
“My sister.”
Adrian’s expression changed slightly.
Naomi caught it.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You thought something.”
“Everyone is a question until I know otherwise.”
“My sister is not poisoning me.”
“I agree.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“But I’m still checking.”
Naomi laughed bitterly.
“That is exactly what being married to you feels like.”
Adrian looked toward her.
“What?”
“Everyone is evidence. Every conversation is information. Every room is a threat assessment.”
His voice softened.
“That kept me alive.”
“And it killed us.”
He had no answer.
Lucas returned to the building.
Naomi watched police move beneath the summer heat.
Her phone remained in an evidence bag because investigators wanted to trace the threatening number.
Adrian sat beside her silently.
Finally he said, “There’s another place.”
“No estate.”
“It isn’t.”
“Hotel?”
“No.”
“Safe house?”
He hesitated.
“That hesitation means safe house.”
“Lake house.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
She almost laughed.
“Of course you have a secret lake house.”
“It isn’t secret.”
“I have been married to you for three years and never heard about it.”
“That makes it moderately secret.”
Despite everything, she smiled.
Adrian saw.
It disappeared quickly.
But he saw.
The lake house stood ninety minutes north of Chicago near a small Wisconsin town.
No iron gates.
No marble.
No ten-car garage.
It was a cedar house overlooking quiet water.
Naomi stared when they arrived.
“You own this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“My mother.”
Naomi had met Adrian’s mother only twice before her death from pancreatic cancer during the first year of their marriage.
Elena Vale had been gentle in a family where gentleness seemed almost rebellious.
“She bought it when I was sixteen,” Adrian said. “She hated the city.”
“You never brought me.”
His expression tightened.
“I should have.”
Inside, the house smelled faintly of cedar and dust.
Lucas inspected everything.
Two guards remained outside at a distance.
Adrian carried Naomi’s overnight bag into a guest room.
She noticed that.
Guest room.
Not his room.
Respecting the boundary.
Again, that mattered.
Around six that evening, Dr. Collins called.
The confirmation test was positive.
Clonazepam.
Not laboratory interference.
Naomi sat at the kitchen table.
Adrian stood across from her.
“How much?” he asked.
“Low level,” Dr. Collins replied. “Likely repeated small exposure rather than a single therapeutic dose, based on what we’re seeing.”
“Could it have caused the vomiting?”
“Possibly contributed to dizziness and fatigue, but pregnancy itself is enough to explain nausea.”
“And the pregnancy?”
“The current evaluation is reassuring. Naomi needs follow-up, hydration, and zero further exposure.”
Adrian thanked her and ended the call.
Naomi stared at the wooden table.
“Repeated.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been taking those vitamins every morning.”
His eyes sharpened.
“How long from the current bottle?”
“Maybe twelve days.”
Adrian called Lucas.
The search shifted from burglary to attempted poisoning.
That phrase made Naomi physically ill.
“Don’t call it that.”
Adrian lowered the phone.
“What should I call it?”
“I don’t know.”
She stood and walked toward the porch.
The evening sun reflected across the lake.
Adrian followed but kept several feet between them.
“Who hates me?” she asked.
He said nothing.
Naomi turned.
“Don’t protect me from the answer.”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s worse.”
“Yes.”
She folded her arms around herself.
“Is this because of you?”
“Probably.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“I’m trying.”
Naomi looked at the lake.
Then at him.
“What happened on our anniversary?”
Adrian became still.
“There was a problem at Calumet.”
“I know the sentence.”
“You want details.”
“I wanted details eight weeks ago.”
He looked down at his bruised knuckles as if the old injuries remained there.
“That night, one of our terminal supervisors called me. A container had been moved without authorization.”
“So?”
“It contained accounting records.”
“Illegal accounting records?”
“Yes.”
“Yours?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Naomi studied him.
“Whose?”
“Someone inside Vale Maritime has been using our routes without my approval.”
“For what?”
“Weapons. Synthetic drugs. People.”
Naomi’s stomach turned.
“People?”
“Human trafficking.”
She stared at him in horror.
“I found out three months ago.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was trying to identify everyone involved.”
“What happened that night?”
“The supervisor who called me was attacked before I arrived.”
Naomi’s anger weakened slightly.
“Was he killed?”
“No. Barely.”
“And your hands?”
“Two men tried to stop me reaching him.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
She had spent that night believing Adrian forgot her because business mattered more.
The truth was more complicated.
But not completely better.
“You could have called.”
“Yes.”
“Three words. ‘I’m alive. Emergency.’”
“Yes.”
“You chose not to.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian looked at her.
“Because I had begun to believe every phone near me was compromised.”
Naomi’s eyes opened.
“The listening device.”
“I didn’t find that until later. But information was leaking.”
“So you decided keeping me ignorant made me safe.”
“Yes.”
“You were wrong.”
“Yes.”
The immediate admission surprised her again.
Naomi walked back inside.
On the kitchen counter sat Adrian’s leather briefcase.
He had left it partially open.
A folder inside showed a name.
BENNETT, THOMAS E.
Naomi stopped.
Thomas Bennett.
Her father.
She turned slowly.
Adrian saw where she was looking.
His face changed.
Naomi pulled out the folder.
“Why is my father’s name in your briefcase?”
“Naomi.”
Her father had died thirteen years earlier after his car went through a guardrail near Gary, Indiana.
He had been a customs compliance investigator.
Naomi was seventeen.
The folder contained photographs of him.
Old manifests.
Police reports.
And one handwritten note.
BENNETT FOUND THE SECOND BOOK. ROOK KNOWS.
Naomi looked up.
“Who is Rook?”
Adrian did not answer quickly enough.
She understood.
“Someone you know.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
His voice was quiet.
“Elias Rook.”
Naomi knew the name.
Everyone around Adrian did.
Elias had been Adrian’s father’s closest friend.
He had given a toast at their wedding.
He sent Naomi flowers every birthday.
He kissed her cheek at Christmas.
And for the past five years, he had served as Vale Maritime’s executive vice chairman.
Naomi held up the file with shaking hands.
“What does Elias Rook have to do with my father’s death?”
May you like
Adrian looked at her.
“I think he may be the reason your father never made it home.”
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